


Stocking Stuffer

by Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Miscommunication, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 12:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17162075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw/pseuds/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw
Summary: In which the Doctor takes Yaz's gift suggestions a little too literally.





	Stocking Stuffer

**Author's Note:**

> In honor (?) of there not being a Christmas special this year, the Doctor gets to have a normal Christmas! Except gay. 
> 
> Also kind of handwaving Yasmin's religion a little bit, since we haven't seen much detail of her practice. I'm going with she was raised Muslim and still is, but just isn't very observant, and has picked up a vague and secular understanding of Christmas by osmosis. Please let me know if any of this rings false, but it isn't much of an issue in this story. 
> 
> Beta by imaginary_golux

Graham and Ryan had ducked off to spend the holidays with extended family, so it was Yaz who asked the Doctor what she wanted to do this Christmas.

The Doctor blinked and immediately checked the scanners. “That’s odd,” she announced after a long minute of research.

“What?” Yaz felt her pulse quicken as she considered the possibilities. “Distress signal? Time distortion?”

“No, and no. It’s Christmas Eve, and there’s no alien invasion, no alien tech, no nothing.” The Doctor actually frowned, which surprised Yasmin.

“Is that...bad?” Yasmin was definitely confused. “Because that sounds like a normal Christmas to me.”

“Not normal for me, sadly. Always seems to be something going on this time of year. If it isn’t Sycorax hypnotizing people it’s my companions getting trapped in a crashing ship or having to defend a village for a thousand years.”

Yaz was just about to offer her condolences when she swore the Doctor’s ears pricked up. “Hang on,” the Time Lord said. “Did you say a normal Christmas? I’ve never had one of those!” She bounced gleefully over to her companion until they were awkwardly close. “Can we have a normal Christmas? Hang on, what does a normal Christmas involve? Will I like it?”

“Um,” Yaz began, because the Doctor’s ability to pack words into very small spaces of time was a little frightening sometimes. “Yes, we can definitely do Christmas. I don’t know if you’ll enjoy it, but we can definitely do Christmas. Or bits of Christmas, anyway. It’s not a huge holiday for my family, and I know for a lot of people, Christmas is about spending time with your loved ones.”

“Well, that’s alright, then!” The Doctor grinned and clapped Yasmin on the back. “’Cause I love you, and we’ll be together for Christmas!”

“Um,” Yaz continued, because sometimes having a gay panic overwhelmed neurons that might otherwise be attending to such trivial tasks as ‘using words’ and ‘breathing.’ Surely the Doctor didn’t mean ‘love’ in a romantic, human way? Surely the same woman who had waxed poetic about an anti-matter drive couldn’t look at her in the same way? “Yes,” she squeaked. “Let’s, um, bundle up,” she suggested, even though she was sweating sapphic bullets. “And then we can find somewhere snowy.”

Eight hours later...

“Right, that’s hiking in the woods, building a snowman, singing carols, drinking cocoa, ice-skating, decorating a tree in the TARDIS, and now,” the Doctor chattered excitedly, plunking herself down on the sofa, “cuddling in front of a roaring fire!” She beamed and patted Yaz’s leg through her flannel bottoms. “Anything else?”

“I mean, people do sometimes exchange gifts,” Yasmin admitted.

The Doctor’s face fell. “I didn’t get you anything! No! I can quick see if any of the shops are still open!”

“Honestly, Doctor, we don’t have to do that.” Honestly, Yaz thought, she was just about ready for bed. Not that her jam-packed Christmas with the Doctor hadn’t been amazing, but keeping up with the excitable Time Lord was exhausting. “Really, I didn’t get you anything either, and...” See what she makes of this, Yasmin told herself. “All I want for Christmas is you.” She yawned. “Looks like it’s time for us to put out our stockings and go to bed.”

“Put out our stockings?”

Yaz blinked through the sleepy haze. “You know, usually red or green, usually with some fake fur for the Santa look. You leave them out and in the morning Father Christmas has filled them with gifts.”

The Doctor pursed her lips. “Well, I don’t know if Father Christmas will show up again since I don’t fancy getting involved with dream crabs again. But I’ll see what I can do.”

Yasmin fought and lost against a yawn, too tired to even question dream crabs. “You don’t need to do anything. I’m completely knackered, m’self. Might just drop off right here.”

The Doctor patted her on the forehead. “Don’t worry, Yaz. I’ll take care of the stockings. You rest.”

Yasmin mumbled something and dozed off, smiling.

Eight hours later...

Yaz yawned and stretched. Her limbs felt loose and easy despite spending the night on the enormous sofa rather than in bed. There was a heavy duvet draped over her and a soft pillow tucked under her head. She must have been dead to the world last night because she didn’t remember the Doctor doing any of that. With another yawn, she opened her eyes...

...and she definitely didn’t remember the Doctor doing that.

“Mornin’ Yaz! How do you like your stockings and your gift?” Yasmin’s jaw fell to the floor. “If you’re concerned, don’t be. Metabolism’s different than yours, and I’m nice and toasty with the fire here.”

If Yasmin had had doubts before as to whether the Doctor held much truck with organized religion or with the law, those doubts were dispelled at once, because what she was seeing had to be a sin, a crime, or both. The older woman was wearing nothing but two mismatched red and green stockings, the tops trimmed with white fake fur. Yaz’s mouth ran dry. She was still asleep and dreaming.

“Did, erm, you want to join me? Here on the rug? Or I could hop up on the couch?”

No, she had died and gone to Heaven. That must have been it.

“Are you okay, Yasmin? Have you gone into shock?” And Yaz hadn’t yet but now—Allah be merciful—the Doctor’s actual breasts were dangling about eight inches from her face. Tipped with perfect and perfectly human nipples. She could lick them. Could she lick them? Should she?

“I.” Yasmin took a deep breath. “Um.” Steady, Khan, she told herself. Now was not the time to have a gay heart attack. “Did you do this for me?” The Doctor’s face fell and Yasmin reversed course. “Because, um, I do appreciate it. Just, um, surprising.”

“Surprising? But you asked for it. Very specifically.” The Doctor frowned and bounced back on her heels. That wasn’t the only thing that bounced, Yaz noted. And immediately hated herself for thinking. Slowly, her words from the previous night returned to her through the hormonal fog in her brain. She supposed she had asked for “just the Doctor” and said things about stockings but this...this was well beyond what she had expected.

Speaking of which… “Sorry, what I meant was: you aren’t doing this just because I asked, right? Because I totally want to have sex with you--” Whoops, that just slipped out! “--but not if you don’t and, um. Um.” She really needed to stop saying um. Fuck. “What I’m trying to say is, while I’m appreciative, I don’t know if we’re really at that point in our relationship.” Hell, she didn’t even realize they were _in_ a relationship. She stripped off her jumper and handed it to the Doctor, who obediently pulled the soft wool over her head and into some semblance of modesty. “Maybe we could just cuddle a bit?”

The Doctor’s smile lit up her face. “Cuddling with Yaz! Brilliant!” And Yaz couldn’t help but smile as she pulled the Time Lord close by the fireside.

**Author's Note:**

> Arguably a spiritual sequel to my earlier fic, Boxing Day, because there's nothing like slightly-clueless lesbians for the holidays.


End file.
